


Let Me Tell You A Story

by lost_and_found



Category: British Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Love/Hate, POV First Person, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-17 09:33:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3524258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_and_found/pseuds/lost_and_found
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(extracted from the story)</p><p>Tom Hiddleston. You know him, don't you? You must know him. He's pretty famous. I know him, too. The difference between me and you is that I KNOW know him. Properly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_The camera is set up, an empty chair in front of it. In the corner of the screen, a female face can be barely seen_. _She's still trying to figure out if she's started recording. She has. She looks at the camera, smiles and sits in the chair._

Oh, hello...Um _(sighs)_ , I'm Shelina....Richards. I believe that in order to keep somebody interested in your story, you have to give them something interesting to hold on to. Well....Tom Hiddleston. You know him, don't you? You must know him. He's pretty famous. I know him, too. The difference between me and you is that I **know** know him. Properly. Like you know your friends.

I am not name-dropping. Really. To you, he's Tom Hiddleston, the actor, the beauty, the body, the ocean blue eyes, the gentleman, the deep I'm-fucking-you voice. To me, he's just Tom, the friend. Well, he has not always been a friend and he most certainly isn't one now.

Do I have your undivided attention now? I hope I do.

Then, let me tell you who I am. Shelina Richards is the name, but I've already told you that, haven't I? Sorry. I tend to get nervous and forget. I am thirty years old, which will probably be too old to most of you. I am a Londoner, born and raised. You can find me in Notting Hill. Yes, I know, fancy. What can I say? I am one of those privileged people who were born in a family with money. Before you judge me and call me posh, I need to tell you that my current residence I rent with my own money, hard-working-twelve-hours-a-day money. My parents' financial well-being helped me have a great upbringing and sent me to some of the best schools in the country. But other than that, it's all me. I worked my ass off at school and earned a scholarship to continue my studies at Oxford Uni, Trinity College, Economics Department. And I did. I graduated three years later with a first-class honours degree, first in my year.

Alright. Go on, then. Call me a dork. I totally deserve it.

Ever since, I have been working in a multinational company, but I'm not going to give you any specifics. I am now a department manager. Oh, well...I guess I can tell you what type of company it is. It's a media and entertainment company.

Are you putting the pieces together yet? Tom...The company....Bingo!!

My firm had undertaken the production of a film he was in. You can figure it out yourselves, but I'm not going to give you any names. Now, I was still low on the company ranking back then and they sent me all the way to fucking L.A., far away from my beloved London. You must know something about me. I love the bitter London sky. Imagine me in Los Angeles. I was pissed, but I am a professional after all, and I knew it was part of the job. I just missed home. I had meetings every day until filming started. And then, my first chance to prove my worth was given to me. I was transferred to the company's US headquarters until filming was over, to oversee things for our company. One day I got an invitation to the set. And Tom was there. Well...it makes sense. He had a role in the film. The first time I laid my eyes on him, I thought he was easy on the eyes. He is, isn't he? The first time we spoke, I hated his guts. I really, utterly wanted to punch him in the face.

There. I said it.

Now, let me tell you a story...


	2. Chapter 2

_She returns with a steaming cup in her hands. She sits back in the chair and takes a sip._

Now, where was I....? Oh, yes.

Let me take you back to 2011. You must know which film I'm talking about, but you haven't heard it from me. So, I got the invitation to visit the set. Please keep in mind that I was a member of the management team of a huge production company. To me that was still work, even though I knew I would have fun and really hoped Chris Evans was still single. I woke up early in that morning and dressed in a white shirt, black pencil skirt and black pumps. I mean, who can go wrong with that? A car was waiting for me outside my hotel. I got in and went over my schedule.

Let me remind you; this was still work (and Evans was indeed single).

We arrived at the location and people started greeting me and introducing themselves; directors, actors, actresses, production crew members, Then I saw him. Chris Evans. And, God, he looked fantastic in his action suit.

Yes, I kept my cool. My body didn't... But it was to go through an even bigger shock on that day. I just didn't know yet.

So, I was on set, talking to Chris and Joss, when I heard a deep male voice with a British accent coming from behind. I naturally turned around to take a look at its owner. Oh, give me a break. The guy sounded like sex incarnate. Wouldn't you?

Yes, it was Tom. He was purely handsome. It took every ounce of me not to jump at him right there and then. That's how handsome he was. I forgot all about Chris Evans. That's how handsome he was. And Chris was openly flirting with me. That's how fucking handsome he was. I was in a day-dream. And what brought me back to reality was Chris' voice shouting, "Hiddleston, dude, stop being so loud. You're winning over the ladies again". I immediately turned my head back to him and he winked at me.

Oh, God. Shoot me now. Anyone? No?

Tom came closer. "Hello. I'm Tom Hiddleston". He smiled. And then I actually believed I was indeed day-dreaming. Oh, that smile.

I know what you're going to say; "What? Didn't you know he has a killer smile?". Well...I didn't. I didn't know who he was until I was shown a picture and told his name. I had only matched the face to the name. And even though I had found him cute, I never bothered to look him up any further. Hang me.

I introduced myself. And, yes, I kept my cool. My body was once again defeated, but this time it was wrecked.

"Oh, a fellow Brit. It's nice to meet you, baby."

What? WHAT? What did he just say to me? Baby? Who did this guy think he was? Nobody can call me 'baby'. Not even my boyfriends can call me 'baby'. He was getting on my wrong side, this one.

As if this was not enough, I caught him checking me out. Right in front of my eyes. And he didn't even blush when he realised I saw him do it. I am not a piece of meat, mate. For fuck's sake...

"Are you the lady I'm winning over?", he asked me confidently and smirked. Totally on my wrong side.

"No. I'm the lady who's here to work. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do than boost your ego", I answered obviously annoyed. I turned on my heel and left. Chris laughed. Tom didn't. Eat that, Hiddleston.

Highly unprofessional? Probably. But he had pushed all my buttons.

I am not prickly. Allow me to elaborate on that. It was my company's standard policy to inform young women like me at the beginning of their career that found themselves on sets with hot actors on their relationship status, whenever they had that kind of information. They had observed much drama over the years. In my line of work, most women were very pretty and capable of wowing a beautiful actor, but we have to be careful not to mix business with pleasure, if it's to hurt the former. No one really cares about the latter.

Now, let me inform you on Tom's then relationship status; Not. Single. I really don't appreciate men checking me out and being cocky and flirty when they are in a fucking relationship. It isn't just a major turn-off to me, it's also fucking disgusting.

Yes, alright. I know. I checked him out, too. But, in my defense, (a) I didn't do it to his face and if it weren't for stupid Chris, he wouldn't even have noticed, and (b) I was not in a fucking relationship. I rest my case.

Now I can honestly say that that was the day I met people most of you would wish to meet at least once in your life; Chris Hemsworth, Natalie Portman, Scarlet Johansson, Robert Oh-my-God Downey Jr. Yeah, I know. I'm name-dropping. Sorry. I get carried away. I managed to forget about Tom Hiddleston, even though he made it quite a challenge with being utterly ridiculous. You see, all those behind-the-scenes videos you've seen of him being all cute and funny, all those things he did on those, I saw live. And I was pissed at him. And I thought he was being stupid, making a fool of himself.

Filming was wrapped up for the day, late in the evening. I was waiting outside for my ride which never really came. There was some mix up and apparently the driver thought I would go back to the hotel on my own. How and why he had thought that was beyond me. They told me on the phone that they would send somebody, but it would take more than an hour to be there.

Fucking amazing.

"Did they stand you up?", I heard Tom's voice and his stupid accent which was the same as mine, but sounded annoying coming from his mouth.

"It seems....They'll be here in an hour or so.", I answered reluctantly. Tom was now standing next to me.

"We'll give you a ride to your hotel", he said firmly and smiled at me. I went to protest, of course. There was no way in hell I would owe him one. "Please, Shelina. Everyone's leaving and it's dark and cold. I'm not leaving you here alone. It's one of two things; You're either coming with me or I'm staying until your car is here. What's it going to be?"

"Alright...I'm coming", I nodded defeated. Next thing I know, he took off his coat and wrapped it around my shoulders.

"There", he smiled at me and motioned for me to walk towards the car.

Nice move, Hiddleston. I'll give you this one. Nice move, indeed.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

_She's sitting in the chair, looking away from the camera, her index finger tapping on her knuckle._

I'm thinking. You see...I'm not entirely sure if I should tell you about what happened on the way back to the hotel. I really want you to like me and I might have been a little rude to him that night.

Oh, alright. I'll tell you. But you have to promise me that you won't jump to conclusions. See things through first, before you decide that I'm a bitch.

So, we were at the back seat of the car, Tom and I, traveling back to the city in complete silence. I don't know why, but for some reason, he wanted to break the ice. I didn't. So I blame the whole situation on him. I do. Why did he have to speak? Why did he have to be nice to me? Why did I ever go with him? Maybe I am entirely to blame.

"Do you have a boyfriend?". That was the first thing that he thought he should ask me? Really? See? The guy was infuriating. Of all the things, he had to go and ask the one question all girls learn from their teenage years is the question a guy who is interested in dating you asks.

"None of your business", I replied without even looking at him. What? I was checking at my e-mails. They had sent me the schedule for the next day. I was very tired and I wanted to go straight to bed once in my room. It seemed like a good time to see what was waiting for me once I was up in the morning. Besides, I had no interest whatsoever in making small talk with him.

"Do you always work this much?". His voice had this...Let's just say he sounded somehow worried. I thought something was wrong with him, like he was in pain or something. What can I say? I'm a caring person. His face had no sign of any physical pain. He was smirking. The little fucker made me look at him.

"None of your business". What? He was alright. I didn't have to answer as if I had to lift his spirits. If he had any emotional problems that worried him, I wanted nothing to do with it. I took some papers out of my bag and started reading them, not minding him at all.

And then, just like that, he snatched the papers from my hands. This time he had really forced me to look at him. His face had his usual composure, but his eyes were piercing me, anger flowing from them. And that might, and I repeat **might** , have caused a throbbing between my legs. I will admit to nothing.

"Alright. That's it! I'm doing my absolute best here to be nice to you. What have I ever done to be given the cold shoulder?"

"What is it, Mr. Hiddleston? You can't handle not being liked by everyone?", I fought back, furrowing my brows and all. Self high-five, Shelina. Oh, little did I know.

"I can't handle not being liked without a reason. And I believe I gave you none. You aren't even giving me a fucking chance here. What did I do, Shelina? Is it my face? You just don't like it?"

Oh, it wasn't that...Definitely not the face. You see, of all the looks he has ever pulled off, his shaved face is my least favourite and I still find him extremely attractive and sexy and hot and gorgeous....Oh, God. Not the face. Don't get me started on his face. And it's not even his best part...

"Can I have my papers back, please?", I said coldly. He gave them back to me, mouthing something that seemed like 'unbelievable', but I couldn't really tell in the darkness and under the mere street lights. I could sense his frustration in the air, but Tom, ever the gentleman, never showed it.

Have you ever had this moment when you're completely wrong in a situation, but you're too selfishly proud to apologise, and you just feel even worse because the person you've wronged doesn't react in a bad way to justify your attitude towards them? That was mine. Trust me, I am ashamed of myself, to this very day.

After our small exchange of words, we said nothing more. I was faking I was distracted on my phone. Tom was looking out of the window, lost in his thoughts, or so it seemed to me this once I raised my head to take a look at him. They dropped me off at my hotel. I thanked him and the driver and I stepped out of the car. Regret was washing over me for the whole way up to my room. I dropped my bag to the floor, got undressed and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. Just as I was about to turn the water on, I heard a loud knock on my door. I came out of the shower, wondering who it could be, and wrapped a towel around my body. I opened up and there stood Tom right in front of me.

"I am so, so sorry to disturb you. But I need to know, Shelina. You have to tell me, otherwise I won't be able to sleep until I figure it out", he said, looking right into my eyes. Then, his gaze roamed down my body and he unconsciously licked his lips.

"See? This is it! You're doing it again. Fucking unbelievable. You're looking at me with this hungry look when I know for a fact that you have a girlfriend. It's disrespectful, mate!"

"Did you look me up?", he chuckled.

"Don't flatter yourself". I tried to close the door to his stupid face. I mean, come on! The guy was a prick. He came all the way to my room, just to brag. He put his strong hand against the door to prevent me from closing it.

"I'm sorry. You're right. I do have a girlfriend. And I'm madly in love with her. But...you are a beautiful woman, Shelina. I can't help it. I won't do it again if it bothers you. I promise. Just...don't be mad at me, okay?", his voice was warm and he was searching for my eyes.

"Why do you care if I like you or not?". I just couldn't take a man's sincere apology, could I? No, honestly, what's wrong with me? Fuck, Shelina, the guy was trying.

"Because I do". Nice explanation, Hiddleston. Your parents must be really proud for wasting their money on sending you to Cambridge. "Please?". Now, can we all just agree that those ocean blue, pleading eyes of his have to be introduced both at law schools as a form of persuasion and at military schools as a form of mild torture? This guy was going to be the death of me. He had me at being angry, and just then he had me at being soft, too. God, the fucker!

"Alright. Just...get out of here, okay?". I was tired, you guys. He smiled and walked away after wishing me a goodnight, first reminding me that I should never call him Mr. Hiddleston again.

Now that you know what happened that night, let me tell you something. Let me admit something I thought I could never admit to another human being. And let me hate myself for eternity for doing so. The reason why I didn't like him was because I really **really** did. Does this make any sense to you? I didn't want him to flirt with me and I didn't want him to look at me the way he did, because it gave me false hope. It was a defense mechanism. Probably of a twelve-year-old, but still...What was I supposed to do? Have you seen the guy? Would you stay away? Don't lie!

Of course, I didn't know all that back then, but since I'm here now, I can tell you. I guess my subconscious decided that he was an ass. And then he had to offer me a ride back and lend me his coat and be nice and care and it would be against all logic not to like him, but, God, how I hate him when he does that.

I really, really hate him....


	4. Chapter 4

_She takes a sip from her cup and leans down to leave it on the floor, before she looks back at the camera._

I'll take you a few months ahead now. You see, Tom and I only met a couple more times on set before filming was over and I had to head back to London. The only thing worth knowing about me during that specific period of time is that I managed to make very good friends with Chris Evans. Yes, you heard me right. He had asked for my number one of the times I was on set and, naturally, I gave it to him. We only recently revealed to each other, now disgusted by the idea, that we liked each other in the beginning, physically that is. By the time we had finished our first dinner together, we both knew that we would never work. It wasn't just because of the distance. He is good-looking and all, but some people you know are great as friends and that's that. 

But...where was I? Uh, yes! A few months later, around Christmas 2011, I was in London, work was hectic as ever, and I was having a long day at the office. My experience in L.A. had gained me a slightly bigger office, a better job description and a higher salary. The piles of paperwork were driving me nuts, but my phone that started buzzing on my desk was my cue for a breather. When I saw Chris' name on the screen, I gladly picked it up and answered.

"Hello, darling". I was giving that Yankee fucker my warmest and sweetest voice. Little did I know he would soon be even more of a prick than he usually is.

"Where are you?". I should have guessed something was wrong, which I didn't and that's very, very rare of me, and hung up the phone right away, turn it off completely and even throw it in the Thames, but as you will soon find out, my instinct had decided to go for a walk that day.

"Um, London". You see that, right? My mind was not even functioning. It couldn't even start screaming  _'get a fucking grip'_.

"I know you're in London, idiot! Where in London?". That was when I actually started getting suspicious that something was going on. Such a bright young lady!

"Why...? Wait! Are you here?". Even though I was starting getting impatient with all this shit Chris was pulling off at me, I admit that I would have been really happy if my guess had been true. But, of course, it wasn't...

"What? Of course I'm not. I'm in L.A. So? Where are you?". I'm terribly sorry and I know I don't have to tell you the whole conversation and that I could just tell you what it was he actually wanted, but where's the fun if I don't make you suffer like Chris did me?

"At my office. Jesus fuck, Chris! What's gotten into you?". At that point I knew it was either he would tell me what on Earth was going on or I would leave the office, go to the airport, take the first flight to L.A., go to wherever the fuck he was, punch him in the dick, and fly back to London to wrap up my work for the day.

"Have you heard?". I wholeheartedly believe that people who call to tell you some news and go around the bush until you feel the need to start yelling at them should be exiled from the face of the planet. I'm terribly sorry, but I do.

"Heard of what, Evans? What's going on, mate?". I was starting getting a little worried, truth be told.

"Tom broke up..." Silence. Tom is not an unusual name and it's not like me and Chris would talk about him often, but the moment he said the name, I knew he meant that Tom... It was Hiddleston time all over again.

"What? When? Why? No! No... Don't tell me. I don't want to know. I don't care..." Isn't it great when your tongue just slips up and asks all the questions for your brain and then you pretend you don't care? I thought it's the bloody brain that gives signals to all of the other organs to function. But then again, if that were the case, we would have been saved stupidity in this world. So either biology has it all wrong, or I have.

"Right...You don't...Why won't you just admit that you like him, Shelina?". I never quite figured out how Chris knew, what it was that he had seen that made him think I liked Tom, but I'd never admit it to him, not in a million years. These guys were friends. He would rat me in a second, especially now.

"Chris, I've told you a thousand times that I find him attractive, but I don't like him. God! Why are you even calling me to tell me this?". I had to direct the conversation some place else. I must admit that I wanted to know what had happened, and that the thought that Tom might have said something to Chris about liking me and wanting to talk to me now that he was single again did cross my mind, even though that was not the case at all.

"Shelina, you're in London. You should call him and get together. It's been over a month since it happened and he's still crying over it. I know you can cheer him up. I'm worried, honey". This asshole wanted me to take on his duties as a friend to fucking Tom Hiddleston, because he was worried. Unbelievable! It's not my fault your in L.A., Evans. Move to our side of the pond. Not my problem!

"I'm sure he deserved it. The poor girl must have had it up to her head with all his flirting with other women". I was a bit harsh right there, judging without even knowing. Work was taking a toll on me and everything seemed blurred inside my brain.

"She was cheating on him, S. He went to surprise her and he saw her kissing another man outside her house. Apparently this had been going on for almost the whole time she and Tom had been together". My insides were turning. Tom and I had gotten on the wrong foot and I still thought he was utterly annoying, but he wasn't a bad guy and, for some reason, I would never really think that he could cheat on a girlfriend. I didn't know him very well back then, but he seemed very trustworthy.

"I don't even have his number, Chris". I knew I had made a grave mistake the moment these words had left my mouth. Of course Chris would suggest he gave it to me, which he did right away. You see, I really liked Tom, even though I'm not entirely sure I had yet admitted that to myself. And there might have been no girlfriend in the picture anymore, but now there was heartache. And you might be capable of beating the existence of another woman in a man's life. But you hardly ever beat the memory of another woman in a man's heart.

"All that matters is that he leaves his fucking house. If he doesn't want to talk to you, he will politely pass. No harm done. Now be a sweetheart and write down his number. And fucking leave the office, S". And just like that, I found myself in the cyclone that's called Tom Hiddleston. It'll be a slow burn there for the lot of you, but you'll know why. 

Two hours later, I was sitting on my sofa, phone in one hand, the piece of paper with Tom's number in the other. I was feeling sorry for him, but how could I call him out of the blue? I had only met the guy a few times, and it's not like he thinks I was his biggest fan exactly. How could I invade his privacy just like that? Stupid Chris Evans! Another good hour passed, during which my at-that-moment-not-so-beloved-friend had sent me about ten text messages urging me to call, before I actually took a deep breath and tapped the number on my phone. Now, I would love to give you the same treatment as I did with my earlier conversation with Chris, but thinking you're not interested, I'll just give you my quick chat on the phone with Tom exactly as it happened, no commentary whatsoever.

"Hello?"

"Um...Tom, hi. It's Shelina...Richards"

"Shelina? God! Hi! How are you?"

"I'm...well, thank you. And you?"

"About the same. How did you - ?"

"Chris..."

"Right. The poor lad's still trying to find somebody to get me out of here, eh?"

"Well..."

"I'll give it to him this time, though. Your call actually gets me intrigued. But you really don't have to do this, Shelina. Thank you."

"I'm really sorry she...did this to you, Tom. I know we got on the wrong foot, you and I, but you're a good guy. You don't deserve this shit."

"Thank you, Shelina. I really appreciate it. You know... I really don't feel like leaving this house, but if you're game, I would love to treat you with the best take-out pizza in London and some whiskey at my place."

"You did say two of my favourite things in the same sentence. You really know how to impress a girl, Tom. Of course I'm game. Give me about thirty minutes to get ready and I'll be right there."

"Thank you, love. I'll text you the address."

Throughout the conversation his voice sounded pained, forced even, like he was holding back his tears. Oh, the poor fella! What? I have a soft spot for brokenhearted men. Especially this brokenhearted man. No, no. no! Don't you dare think that I was planning on taking advantage of his sorrow! It's just that...I was somehow feeling for him and I wanted to ease his pain. That's all. No, really. That's it.

So, I had a quick shower, blew my hair dry and put some light make-up on. I thought that he would probably be in his pajamas, not even bothering to change and get himself out of his misery, so I decided to follow the dress code. No, I did not go in my pajamas. I just went for a simple pair of leggings, a jumper and my All-stars. I looked like a teenage girl. The horror!

On my way to his place I bought a bottle of Jameson. A bottle of good whiskey could never harm anyone and it was my first visit to his house after all. Some forty minutes later I was ringing his doorbell and I was getting that annoying fast beating in my heart. I heard some noise on the other side of the door and soon after he was standing right in front of me. My guess had been spot-on. Well...almost. He was indeed wearing his pajama pants, hanging low on his hips, showing just a hint of flesh, and a jersey V-neck that could give you an orgasm just by hanging on that chiseled body. Don't worry, I didn't let it show. I know when the time is appropriate for such behaviour.

"Come on in, darling. Please, pardon the mess". He motioned for me to walk inside to what would have been a beautiful living room, had it not been in such a state. I was greeted by empty whiskey bottles and packs of cigarettes, clothes all over the floor, some seemed to be hers, and glasses in a corner across the room, probably a shuttered whiskey glass he threw against the wall after he consumed its content. I looked at him worriedly and he smiled weakly. "It's not that I still love her that hurts...It's the realisation that she never really did".

At least I knew the whiskey would come in handy.

 

 

 


End file.
